A Ministering Spirit.
Daph had been smitten by a blow too sudden and violent, to rally
immediately from its effects. Her strength and energy seemed forever
gone. The hope which had upheld her had been stricken from her, and she
knew not where to go for comfort.
“De great Lord has gib poor Daph up!” she said, disconsolately; and,
prostrate in mind and body, she lay on her low bed, her eyes shut, and
her soul all dark within.
It was now that Mary Ray had an opportunity of showing her deep
gratitude, for the unwearied kindness of her humble friend. She assumed
the care of the children, and tried to keep them happy out of Daph’s
sight, and thoughtfully volunteered to go round herself to Daph’s
customers, to tell them that sickness had prevented her from preparing
her usual supply.
All that Mary offered, Daph quietly accepted, almost without opening
her eyes.
Daph seemed to have no wants, and it was in vain that Mrs. Ray came
in and out, and bustled about putting the room in order, opening and
closing the shutters, and making herself very busy, to no possible
advantage; Daph did not notice her; her thoughts were far, far away.
In one of these visits, Mrs. Ray chanced to find the gold chain
the captain had laid on the mantel-piece. This added fuel to her
suspicions, and she felt justified in secreting it, and showing it to
Dr. Bates, as a further proof of the mystery clinging to Daph.
Mrs. Ray’s mind was in a most agitated state. Sometimes she was haunted
with vague notions of some most awful crime committed by Daph, and then
again the kind, truthful face of the negro would rise up before her,
and change her suspicions into shame and self-reproach.
At such times, she could not help feeling, that only virtue and honesty
could be at home in a heart capable of such generous forgiveness, and
patient return of good for evil, as she had received from the now
sorrow-stricken negro. These moments of relenting, to soon alas! were
gone.
Daph was lying sad and alone in the silent room, a few days after the
visit of Captain Jones, when she heard a low tap at the door, followed
by Mrs. Ray’s loud voice, saying, “Walk right in, Miss. She aint much
sick, to my notion, but she don’t take no notice of anybody.”
Daph did notice the stranger who entered, and she even smiled
sorrowfully as she looked up into the face of Rose Stuyvesant.
“We missed your nice cakes on the table, Daph,” said a soft voice, “and
when I heard you were sick, I determined to come and see you myself.”
These words of kindness from a refined and gentle woman, melted the
heart of the suffering negro. She burst into tears as she exclaimed,
“O, my sweet young lady! You speaks to poor Daph like her own dear
missus used to!”
Rose Stuyvesant sat down beside the low bed that Mary had spread for
Daph on the floor. “Are you very sick, Daph?” she asked, tenderly.
“Daph is all dead here, and all dizzy here,” said the poor creature,
laying her hand first on her heart, and then on her head. “De great
Lord has sent Daph a big trouble, and den gib her right up;” and the
tears again flowed fast.
Rose bent over the unhappy negro, and said, gently, “The great Lord
loves you too well, Daph, to give you up in your trouble. Perhaps he
has sent me to comfort you!”
Daph looked up with a gleam of hope in her eye, and murmured, “No
reason why Daph should n’t jus tell all de truth now. Perhaps, if de
sweet young lady knows all, she may comfort Daph up.”
“The Lord Jesus can comfort us in any trouble,” said Rose, softly.
“What makes you so unhappy? Cannot you tell me?”
Daph looked long into the sweet face turned lovingly towards her, and
then said, “De great Lord has sent a-most an angel to poor Daph, and
she shall hear it all.”
The secret that had so long burdened the lonely negro, was now poured
out with all the unconscious eloquence of a true, warm, single-heart.
The tears flowed fast down the cheeks of Rose Stuyvesant, as she heard
the simple story of devoted, heroic affection, and long, patient
self-sacrifice.
She understood the hope that had cheered Daph through years of labor
and anxiety,--the hope of placing the children of her mistress again on
the bosom that had nursed them, and of seeing the happy father again
embrace his long lost ones. That hope was now forever gone, and Rose
Stuyvesant mingled her tears with those of poor Daph, as she concluded
her story.
Those real tears made Daph feel that she had found a true friend, who
sympathised with her in her distress, and this in itself was a whisper
of comfort.
As soon as Rose could command herself, she said, as she took the black
hand in her own, “Daph, the mother who loved to teach her little ones
of Jesus, has gone to be with Him. Your master, too, is now with the
Heavenly King. You will still be able to give them back their children,
in that better land, where there is no parting, where no sorrow ever
comes.”
The negro looked earnestly in the face of the speaker, as she went on;
“You must teach the little ones to love the Lord Jesus, and lead them
to his home in heaven. Daph, you have that now to do, and that is worth
living and striving for.”
“How shall poor Daph show the way to heaven; she don’t know it jus
zactly herself,” said the poor creature, and the momentary gleam of
hope faded from her face as she spoke.
“Jesus Christ has opened the door of heaven wide, for all that love Him
and trust Him,” said Rose, eagerly; “His blood, shed on the cross, can
wash away the sins of the whole world. The great Lord will forgive you
all that is past, and receive you into heaven, for Jesus’ sake, if you
really wish it.”
“What else Daph want now in dis world, but jus know de way to heaven
herself, and lead de childen dere?” was the earnest reply.
Poor Daph had been entrusted with but little religious knowledge, but
to that she had clung in simple faith through all her trials. She had
improved the few talents that had been given her, and now came her
reward in the fulness of the light of the gospel.
Again, and again her young teacher explained the way of forgiveness and
eternal peace through the blood of Christ.
At last the beauty, freedom, and matchless love of the plan of
redemption burst upon her, and there was joy in heaven, when the poor
negro in the midst of her tears, welcomed Christ as her Saviour, and
knew “the great Lord,” as her reconciled Father in heaven.
While the long conversation, so full of moment to Daph, was taking
place, Mary Ray had kept the children happy in the little garden. Their
patience at last gave way, and they pleaded so hard “Just to look at
dear Daffy,” that their young nurse could resist them no longer.
Charlie burst impetuously into the room, unmindful of the stranger,
while Louise more timidly followed. Warm tears filled the eyes of Rose
Stuyvesant as she looked, for the first time, on the orphans. Charlie
saw immediately the happy change that had passed over Daph’s face, and
walking straight up to her, he said exultingly “Daffy’s better! Daffy’s
better! Good Daffy!” and he laid his curly head on her dark arm which
told how dearly she was beloved.
A peculiar attraction seemed to draw Louise to the side of the
stranger, and when she was tenderly kissed, and that sweet, soft, face
bent down to hers, with loving interest, the child put her head on the
bosom of Rose Stuyvesant, clung to her neck and sobbed as if her heart
would break.
“It is not mamma!” murmured the child; and then more and more fondly
embraced one, who had brought back from the dim recesses of memory, the
image of her long-lost mother.
Rose was but little less moved than the child, and in her heart she
prayed that she might give to the little one such lessons in holiness,
as would win an approving smile, were they heard by that mother in
heaven.
By degrees, the agitation of little Louise subsided, but she quietly
kept her seat on the lap of her new friend, and seemed to find a new
pleasure in looking into her kind face and smoothing her fair, soft
hand.
Meanwhile, Daph drew from her pocket a parcel, which she had ever
carried about her, perhaps with the vague idea that it had some
talismanic charm to keep her from evil. Wrapper after wrapper was taken
off, until at last the little book with golden clasps appeared.
“That was all about Him, I know,” said Daph, “about that good Saviour,
but Daph can’t read the blessed book.”
Rose took the Bible that was handed to her and read on the fly-leaf,
“Elize Latourette, from her devoted husband. One Lord, one faith, one
baptism!”
The sight of that book in the hands of Rose, again awoke the dim
memories of the child on her knee, and Louise, through fresh tears, was
doubly drawn towards her new friend.
“Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of
such is the kingdom of heaven,” read the sweet voice of Rose. “All are
the children of Jesus, who put their trust in Him, and truly love Him.”
A thrill passed over the frame of little Louise at the sound of these
words, and she kissed the lips of the speaker, with strange joy in her
eyes. “I cannot stay any longer now,” said Rose, attempting to rise.
“Don’t go! don’t go!” said Louise, almost wildly, “I cannot let you go!”
“But I must, my sweet Louise,” said Rose, as she gently disengaged the
child: “I must go now, but I will come every day and read to you, and
your ‘Daffy,’ out of this dear book.”
“When? When? What time will you come?” asked the child, anxiously,
while Daph listened eagerly for the answer.
“Tomorrow, at eleven o’clock, you must stand at the window and watch
for me, I will not keep you waiting long.”
With this promise again repeated, Rose kissed the children, and with a
murmured word of comfort to Daph, passed from the room.
Not so soon passed away the influence of that visit prompted by
Christian kindness, rich in blessings to the humble negro; most
precious to that young disciple of Christ, who had learned to love to
be “about her Master’s business.”